I'm chasing lions, and goblins and angels at night With a barrel and a bottle by a grandfathers knife There's blood on my collar, I wish it was mine With less friends before me and more left behind
If you run to the moon You're running alone If you wait for the moment It's coming too slow Preacher the prophet I've never known
But the Jesus of prostitutes is chasing my soul But the Jesus of prostitutes is chasing my soul
With oceans before me and oceans to grow The price of this freedom has cost me my home Stood on the mountains of mint fields of gold I wish I wasn't here standing alone
If you run to the moon You're running alone If you wait for the moment It's coming too slow Preacher the prophet I've never known
But the Jesus of prostitutes is chasing my soul But the Jesus of prostitutes is chasing my soul
I remember on Hawthorne the rain and the smoke I wish that the last words weren't the last we spoke I was burning on fire from earlier years The bitterness burns with regret in my tears
If you run to the moon You're running alone If you wait for the moment It's coming too slow Preacher the prophet I've never known
Well living for bread ain't worth living at all Suffer the darkness and wait for the dawn This letter I'm writing won't find a home Burning the thunder And cold to the bone
Cause the Jesus of prostitutes is chasing my soul Cause the Jesus of prostitutes is calling me home